Carrie's Day Off
by Tricia1985
Summary: A quick look at Carrie on her day off and how she's treated by some of her peers. Takes place at the start of her Senior Year. Some insults and one swear word. Carrie et al belong to their respective owners (Stephen King, MGM etc)


_8:30 AM Labor Day, 20…._

_Chamberlain, Maine. _

The young woman sat in an old Boston rocker, placidly looking out of her bedroom window onto Carlin Street below. The sun created dappled patterns on the grass as it seemed to lazily pull itself higher into the virgin-blue sky. Most other high-school seniors would have slept in on their day off. However, she wasn't a normal senior – a fact that her classmates never seemed to tire of pointing out. In any case, it would be slothful to stay in bed later than necessary, and Momma would definitely not approve of casual sinning. The truth of it was that Carrie had little say in the matter anyhow. As usual, Momma came in to her room promptly at 6 for morning prayers.

She had waited for Momma to leave for work before dressing. It would have been a generous act of kindness to call her typical outfit "out of fashion". She opted to wear her denim overall-skirt and a loose cotton shirt today. She was somewhat concerned about whether or not she'd get too hot as summer seemed slow to give way to fall this year, but Momma had taught her that modesty in dress guarded against countless evils. What the exact nature of those evils were, Carrie couldn't say. She had learned long ago that discretion was the better part of valor when dealing with Momma on such issues. She pulled on a pair of plain white knit socks (the buy two get one free kind from Burpee's in Chester's Mill). Carrie brushed her teeth (silently humming a sweet sounding hymn she never could remember the name of); tended to her hair and put on some lip-gloss she hid in her sock drawer (next to a bottle of cotton candy pink Essie nail polish and some mascara). Finally, she slipped on her sliver crucifix, pressing it gently to her lips before letting it fall to her chest. With her routine finished, she started out with a smile (or as close to one as she generally could muster).

Her summer was hardly idyllic, but was far better that what awaited her at school. Most kids her age spent their summers working or travelling – usually down to Boston or Cape Cod. Some of them even went hiking up in the woods near Kashwakamak. Carrie's summer consisted mostly of sewing for money (which she loved), doing odd jobs for a couple of churches – including one in Chester's Mills that Momma adored (but gave Carrie the creeps), and dodging her classmates. She hadn't been as successful in that last endeavor as she would have liked. The physical bruises healed, but the emotional ones just added another layer of pain to what was already locked away in her heart.

Carrie was eager to get out of the house and had made a mental checklist of what she intended to do that day. She was going to head over to the Chamberlain public library and read for a while. The library was one of her favorite places; filled with wonderful books and even DVDs (they had a viewing room where patrons could watch them). She loved to read, and there were so many books to choose from. She was partially through a series about a magical young British boy who was also picked on and spent an inordinate amount of time in a closet. Needless to say she didn't dare check that one out. Afterwards, she'd pass by either the beehive (a local café) or Starbucks. If the coast was clear, she'd get something nice to drink and pick out a cool, shady place in Grass Plaza where she could relax. She'd have to keep her wits about her, though and she thought about how she'd take the long way rather than risk passing by Kelly Fruit Company. The thought of running into Chris Hargensen and the rest of her clique was enough to make her queasy. That being said, she doubted many of her classmates would be hanging out at Grass plaza. They were probably shopping somewhere or drinking in someone's basement.

Carrie knew she was relatively safe in the library – it was highly unlikely that any of her cruel (_Cruel? Why? What have I ever done to them?)_ classmates would be there. The librarians seemed to at least tolerate her – which was more than many people did. She knew deep down that they didn't like her. It was inevitable – kindness and tolerance would always give way to annoyance and disgust. She knew it was hard to like someone like her – ugly and awkward. It was a small town and opinions tended to spread as quickly as wildfire. The fact that she had to replace books she'd borrowed somewhat regularly didn't help matters. Most of the time it wasn't really her fault they went missing or wound up damaged. Carrie found out that most bullies really didn't care if the book actually belonged to her. Carrie didn't blame the librarians for that, although part of her resented the phoniness of their smiles and their forced politeness. The library had limited hours due to the holiday and after spending a good portion of the morning browsing (and eventually settling on a couple of "Momma-approved" books), Carrie set out into the brightness of a New England day.

She opted to skip Starbucks on account of seeing people she recognized waiting on line – they were among the group that generally ignored her, but probably wouldn't hesitate to make fun of her given the opportunity. The Beehive was more or less empty, though and she bought herself a raspberry iced tea (and managed to smile sweetly at the cashier who seemed to have a hard time hiding his disdain). She did see some underclassmen near the gazebo at one end of Grass Plaza, but thanks to years of acquired skill in avoiding people, she managed to make her way to a large shady oak without being spotted.

Carrie set her things down, being careful to place her tea on a relatively flat spot of turf, and settled into the soft, cool grass. She kicked off her shoes (ten buck bargain bin sneakers purchased at the Target in Castle Rock) and made herself comfortable. Things were good, at least for today. There were no mean girls, obnoxious boys or cold, indifferent teachers to upset her. The Post Office clock at the other end of the plaza chimed twice. She closed her eyes and breathed in the pleasant smell of the grass and listened to the chirping of a couple of nearby birds. _Animals don't judge_. Almost without warning sleep overtook her.

Carrie was dreaming happily about the characters she had been reading about at the library when she started to feel someone or something nudge her. It took her a couple of moments to wake up, still groggy from REM sleep, and realize she had company. There were four backlit figures standing above her. Carrie couldn't see exactly who they were, but was filled with a familiar sense of dread just the same.

"Ohuh?" she muttered, brushing some of her strawberry blonde hair off of her face. One of the figures – the one who had been nudging her with her foot – hauled off and gave Carrie a swift kick in the hip.

"Wakey wakey, retard!" The figure said in a sing-song voice dripping with malice. Tina Blake. Carrie sat up, her eyes wide with dread. "What's the matter? Did Momma get sick of the stench?" The other figures – girls from her class – laughed. Carrie tried to stand, but was stopped in her place by a New Balance sneaker courtesy of one of the twins. Carrie couldn't tell if it was Lizzi or Nikki. It didn't matter. Carrie noticed that Chris wasn't with them, but was only slightly relieved by that. Tina and the others were sometimes even worse than Chris. _Go away! Please just leave me be!_

"I love your dress! Did you get it from Goodwill?"

"If you're not careful, you'll end up with bugs in your hair. I don't think the lice would appreciate the competition."

"Even her own mother can't stand her!" Vicky said, eliciting more laughter from the quartet. "Still think Jesus loves you, freak? He probably hates you, too! Everyone does!" _No! _Carrie thought. _He loves me just like he loves you – even though you're a mean horrible person! Does he, though? How could he be watching this happen to me time and time again and never do anything to help if he did? _Carrie could feel her face go red. Her eyes burned and a familiar aching spread through her chest. What had once been a lovely day transformed into an all too routine nightmare. Her head hurt.

"Maybe she can pray the ugly away?" One of the Twins offered.

"Won't help with the stupidity, though." The other responded. "Maybe she'll do the rest of us a favor and Darwin herself!" All of the girls laughed harshly at that last comment. They knew Darwin and Carrie didn't mix. As sick as it might seem to the outside observer, this wasn't the first time one of Alpha girls suggested that she commit suicide.

_I will not cry! I will not cry! I will not cry! _ It was a silent mantra she'd chant when in situations like this. It seldom worked, though. The insults continued indistinctly as one of the twins snapped pictures with her cell. There was no doubt in Carrie's mind who the intended recipient would be – or how quickly the rest of Ewen High would be let in on the joke once Chris checked her email. _I will not cry! I will not cry! I will not cry!_

Vicky Hanscome, a lithe redhead with flawless (almost) skin snatched up Carrie's half finished tea and sniffed it. She made a dramatic _blecch_ sound before tossing it away over her shoulder. The girls laughed even harder at this. "Y'know, nobody will ever kiss you if you don't brush your teeth! Try it for a change." Tina, not one to be shown up – even by a member of her own clique, grabbed Carrie's backpack and hurled it into the undergrowth not far from the oak tree. By now, Carrie was crying. She sobbed and sniffled while feebly muttering go aways and leave me alones! She knew they would eventually, once they grew tired enough of it. It was a dance Carrie was familiar with. As usual, her tormentors seemed to be overjoyed and continued mocking her. 

"Are you gonna cry, Carrie? Are you?"

"Is Cawwie cwying?" "Poor baby!"

"She is! Ew, wipe your nose you disgusting spaz!"

"Turn towards me, please!" Nikki purred. "This is so going on Facebook!"

"You _suck_!" Carrie whimpered – louder than she had intended to. The four girls immediately ceased their chattering. _Oh, no. Big mistake. _Tina leaned down towards Carrie. She was still smiling, but her eyes were cold and hateful.

"That wasn't very nice, Carrie." Tina said in a faux reproachful voice. "I don't think we can let rudeness like that slide, do you?" The Twins and Vicky all chimed in with "nos" of their own. Lizzi tapped Tina on her shoulder and whispered something into her ear.

Carrie couldn't exactly make out what they were saying, but she could see where Lizzi's French-manicured finger was pointing to-her sneakers. For perhaps the third time in the past five minutes, Carrie's heart sank. She had taken them off earlier. She once again tried to get to her feet, but wasn't fast enough. Tina had snatched both of the shoes up and had knotted the laces together. With a smooth, fluid motion she flung them up into the branches of the oak tree. Carrie looked on in horror as the laces looped around a limb twenty feet above her.

Tina was looking up, examining her handy work when her phone rang. She answered, turning her back on Carrie. Carrie wasn't by nature violent, but all manner of horrible things she'd like to do to Tina and the others ran through her mind. Instead of acting on those thoughts, Carrie simply slumped down on the grass and cried. _I know that's what you want. Enjoy – hope you feel really good about it._

Tina turned back to face Carrie and gave a stage sigh. "Chris and Billy are waiting. It's been real, but we've gotta run. Good luck with _that._" She said gesturing towards the dangling sneakers.

"You eat shit". Vicky hissed at Carrie as she walked past. The Twins simply stared, still grinning.

It took Carrie close to half an hour according to the Post Office Clock to compose herself. _Okay, think think. I have to get my backpack – I can't. There's probably broken glass and branches in there and I'm only in my socks. I need my shoes! _The thought of her sneakers (and of what would be a long and probably unpleasant conversation with Momma, topped off a visit to the closet) about what happened to them almost brought on another round of crying. If she was lucky, she might be able to convince Momma not to go house to house and rain fire and brimstone on the bullies – that always seemed to make things worse in the long run. With effort she managed to fight the tears off. She closed her eyes to try to muster her thoughts when she heard a loud snap. The limb her shoes got tangled in thudded to the ground a mere three feet away from her!

_My shoes! Thank God! Thank you, Jesus! _Carrie thought, touching her crucifix. She was beside herself with relief. She scrambled over and quickly extricated them from the mess of twigs and leaves – almost as if she was afraid that if she wasn't quick enough they'd somehow end up back in the tree. Somewhere deep inside in her subconscious a suppressed memory about falling stones screamed to come to surface. A deep, dark part of Carrie understood what happened – understood that _she_ did it, but it didn't matter. Not now, anyway. Now that she had her shoes back, she could get her backpack out of the brambles and go home.

The walk home was mercifully uneventful, and Momma didn't seem to notice her puffy eyes or red nose (and even more mercifully, what little remained of her lip gloss) when Carrie walked in the door. Instead she was told to wash up for dinner. It was just another day in Chamberlain.

_Notes:_

_Stephen King mentions some of the bullying that Carrie experienced before the shower scene, but didn't go into too much detail. I thought it would be kind of interesting to write about how she was mistreated and kind of set up a more visible pattern of abuse. Vicky Hanscome was mentioned briefly in the book, but wasn't given any background. Nikki and Lizzi are two of the mean girls from the 2013 remake. I suspect that they won't make it out of the prom._


End file.
